


Oh my GOD do I try

by Comedia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fighting Kink, Fluff, M/M, Puppy Love, Sexting, Smoking, cursing, dad jokes, kind of???, old men being bad at sexting, this is basically a really long shitpost, too many smileys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comedia/pseuds/Comedia
Summary: The one where Hanzo and Jesse are terrible at sexting and also pull a lot of dad jokes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously named after [this](https://youtu.be/ZZ5LpwO-An4), to complete the shitpost feel of it all.

Exchanging numbers with his team members is mandatory. At first Hanzo dreads what it could lead to; chat groups, cute cat spam, overuse of "emojis". To his relief the rest of Overwatch seem just as disinterested in bothering their co-workers as he is, and the following months he’s only contacted when there’s an emergency.  
  
Everything changes one night, perhaps half a year into his stay with the task force. He has spent the evening with the resident cowboy, and some might refer to what just transpired as a "bonding moment". Hanzo would prefer to call it a "surprisingly pleasant interaction".  
  
He's lying in bed, the scent of tobacco still tickling his senses, when the phone buzzes.  
  
_"G'night partner!! :D"_  
  
Hanzo stares at the screen. Needs several minutes to accept that McCree, one of the Overwatch veterans, ex-criminal, _brilliant soldier and strategist McCree_ , just sent him a text with something so trivial, something so... normal.  
  
While Hanzo has many strategies for navigating life - with his past, it's been a necessity - this interaction floors him. As his mind is racing, he notices how the message is marked "read", meaning that McCree knows that he's seen it. Without putting much thought into it, he hastily types _"U2"_ and hits send. McCree instantly starts typing a reply, and Hanzo cannot understand why the texting interface is designed to be so utterly stressful – do they not care about the wellbeing of their users?  
  
_" <3 their music, didn't know u were a fan"_  
  
Hanzo wouldn’t be able to stop the groan that escapes him if his life depended on it. He considers putting the phone down and never picking it up again. Then he decides to start googling instead. He sends McCree a picture of a giant ceiling fan, accompanied with the message:  
  
_"The biggest."_

The next day McCree sits down next to him in the mess hall, delivering a punch to his shoulder that is somewhere between jesting and painful.

“Gentlemen don’t pun and run, Shimada.” A cloud of smoke billows with his voice, and Hanzo does his best not to cough. Instead he glares at the cowboy for a solid minute, before slowly raising one eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I do not _‘pun’_.”

It earns him a snort, and they spend the rest of the morning in silence.

* * *

 

The first couple of days he jumps every time his phone buzzes. It is like a constant weight in his pocket, and knowing that just a single person is bombarding him with attention makes every vibration feel like intimate touches. Not that Hanzo thinks of their interactions this way. This is nothing more than colleagues communicating effectively.

_“sry to say :o  
this watermelon ice tea mighbe sweeter than u :P”_

Attached to the text is a picture of a pitcher full to the brim with brown liquid. Hanzo glares at the screen as if he could pierce it with his gaze.

_“Abomination.”_

He has barely sent the text when the app informs him of McCree typing a reply. He’s doing his best to keep his cool, but suddenly he’s worried that he’s offended his friend.

_“Not u, the tea”_

For a moment McCree stops typing. Then…

 _“LOL :D_  
had me worried ther partner  
come to the roof n try some :)))”

Hanzo does not hesitate before heading out the door.

* * *

 

They return from a mission covered in mud, but the dirt doesn’t concern Hanzo as much as the cowboy who’s been leaning on him during the entire shuttle ride back to base. McCree has a nasty cut across his right shoulder, and with Lúcio knocked out cold they can’t get medical assistance until they reach Angela. The shuttle has barely landed before McCree is carried off, and Hanzo is left on his own. He meanders for a while, considering if it would be worthwhile requesting access to the medical bay, but eventually he decides against it.

Instead he heads to his quarters, and by habit he brings the phone with him. Before getting in the shower he places it precariously on the edge of his sink, and the he gets beneath the hot water. He probably spends at least half an hour beneath the spray, kneading his aching muscles, massaging his scalp while untangling all the mud and dirt from his long hair. It feels like he hasn’t relaxed in months, and still he can’t completely melt away with the water. The dragons stir with discomfort as he remembers McCree, pale and slumped against him, red against the beige of all the dirt.

He almost slips when the phone vibrates violently against the porcelain of the sink. Doesn’t bother to turn the water off and he leans forward to get a good look at the screen. Once he notices the photo preview flashing on the screen he sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. It’s against his better judgement, but within seconds the phone is in his hand and the message is opened.

The picture is taken from an awkward angle, and Hanzo is pretty sure he can glimpse Angela in the background. Despite everything going on in the blurry photo, he only has eyes for McCree. Shirtless, shoulder bandaged, bronze skin glowing from where it’s been washed. A new cigar is at the corner of his mouth, a bright smile showing off his gleaming teeth. His eyes sparkle where they meet the camera head on. After a breathless moment Hanzo allows his eyes wander, taking in the dark hair of McCree’s chest and how it trails down, out of frame. For but a moment he pictures where it might lead him, if he was only brave enough to follow it.

He notices the messages almost as an afterthought. The words forgotten when presented with something as distracting as… that.

_“good as new :D  
thank u for getting me back 2 base  <3”_

And then five minutes later; _“like what u see? :)))”_

Hanzo cannot possibly have been staring for so long, can he? He tries not to think about it too hard, feeling the warmth of a blush rising on his cheeks along with the steam of the shower trailing his skin. When he starts typing with still wet fingers he’s dangerously close to dropping the phone on the floor.

_“Looking good.”_

The reply is read instantly, and Hanzo can barely will himself to breathe as he awaits the reply. Did he go too far? Was the photo meant only as a display of health? As a reassurance between friends?

_“rawr :)  
u should send a pic!!”_

He stares at the phone. Then he stares some more. He should…?

_“plz I almost died :(((”_

The begging is pathetic enough to tug at his heartstrings, and he raises the phone, taking a quick photo. It captures his face and shoulders, shimmering droplets of water still clinging to his skin. To not make it too blatantly flirty he stares straight at the camera with a perfect death glare, his long, wet hair framing his face a bit too well.

His phone vibrates rapidly, almost enough to slip out of his hand.

 _“DEAR LORD_  
<3!  
<3 <3 <3  
1st u save me then u slay me <3”

The statement is so ridiculous that he won’t dignify it with a reply. All the same it has his lips quirk into an involuntary smile, his cheeks heating up from more than just the humid air of the bathroom.

_“r u in the shower??? :o  
looks steamy :3”_

Hanzo raises an eyebrow at that. He should have expected McCree to be perceptive, but part of him had just assumed that the cowboy would be too groggy to pay attention to details. He should have known better.

_“My location is of no concern to u”_

There’s no immediate reply. He knows that McCree has read his message, but there’s no notification about him writing anything back. Hanzo stares at the screen until he can’t take the anticipation, and then he scrolls up a bit, clicking the photo again. It fills the entire screen, lean muscle from decades of combat, mischievous twinkle in those brown eyes.

He flinches when the phone buzzes with a new message, and now he knows why there was no sign of McCree typing. Another photo has arrived. When he opens the message and the new picture replaces the old one he has to lean against the nearby wall to stay upright.

Hanzo’s mouth is dry, and he licks his lips repeatedly, trying to figure out what to do with his phone. Part of him wants to throw it into the toilet; delete McCree from his contacts; do anything that could somehow remove him from this situation. There’s a minefield at his fingertips, and he has absolutely no clue how to best navigate it.

McCree is back in his quarters, sprawled lazily on his bed. He is still painfully shirtless. Still with a dreadfully smug smile gracing his lips. But this time the camera is positioned differently. He manages to not only capture his broad chest, but the frame of the photo cuts off just at the waistband of his boxers; treasure trail wandering down his abs, making its way beneath.

The sight is… more than Hanzo expected. He finds that words escape him, and truly does not know how to proceed. What does one do in a situation like this? Weighing his options of writing a stiff reply, ignoring the message, going to McCree’s quarters and murdering him to make the awkward go away… eventually he finds a solution.

Taking a step back he holds his arm out, angling the phone just so. Without putting too much thought into it he snaps a picture and hits send. He barely has the courage to see how the photo turned out. Considering the immediate reply from the cowboy it can’t have been too horrible.

 _“YUm <3_  
now I am actually daed x.x  
mr. Shimada u are STEAMY <3”

Hanzo doesn’t bother to write back. He knows that McCree is far from done, and so he patiently awaits the messages he knows are coming.

 _“how bout a pic that’s a bit_  
u know :3  
looooower  
;)))”

The suggestion actually has Hanzo laughing out loud, and he figures it’s only fair that he informs McCree of this.

_“Lol.”_

He pauses. Notices how there's no immediate reply from McCree, even though he has clearly seen the message. Another beat, and then he types...

_"No."_

The myriad of sad smileys he gets in reply are staggering, and when the smiley storm eventually dies down a bit he puts the phone back on the sink. Once he's beneath the hot water again he closes his eyes, letting his hands roam, picturing something - someone - very particular. Hanzo doesn’t have the decency to feel ashamed of neither the fantasies nor the actions that follow.

* * *

They don’t talk about the photo exchange the following day, and for the next couple of weeks their texting returns to something more normal. Something just a bit… safer.

* * *

_“come to the gym in the next 20 minutes if you want an ass kicking”_

 At this point Hanzo doesn’t even have to think about his reply. It’s been almost two months, and by this point he has a standard answer for most of McCree’s messages.

_“???”_

_“sry SORY_  
Hana got a hold of my phone  
…”

The dots has Hanzo worried. McCree only actually types out a “pause” if he’s pondering something, and whenever the cowboy sets his mind to something, dangerous things follow.

 _“would u wanna spar tho? ;)_  
think wed alone :D  
WE’D! bE aLONE!!  
not tryin to trick you into a dark ally  & marry u ;_;”

He’s not really sure when or how it happened, but recently Hanzo has found McCree’s typos and consecutive freak-outs not only amusing, but endearing. The man is fast at everything he does, his mind speeding ahead and his body trying to keep up. Just thinking about those big hands trying to churn out coherent sentences fast enough has Hanzo’s lips quirk up in a smile. If his heart flutters a little he does his best to pay it no mind.

And the offering is tempting.

_“In 20min I will kick ur ass  
With my metal feet”_

Normally he would put his phone down. He has found that it infuriates the cowboy to no end, and most days he employs this strategy as a form of “mic drop”. However, curiosity gets the best of him, and he keeps a steady gaze on the phone as McCree takes four whole minutes to type a reply. It would be a nice change of pace, if the result was not…

_“Kinky ;) <3”_

Hanzo wonders why he even tries.

But twenty minutes later he finds himself at the gym, squaring his shoulders and letting his gaze trail McCree where the cowboy circles him. It looks as if the other man is about to launch at him when he stops dead in his tracks. For a moment he’s silent, but then there’s a wicked gleam in his eyes. When his hands move to start unbuttoning his shirt, Hanzo has to cough loudly in order to hide the admiring sigh that escapes him.

“To even the playin’ field, Legolas.”

McCree throws his shirt to the side and stretches, his pants hitching lower in the process. Meanwhile Hanzo is trying his best to accept the fact that he’s going to touch that tan skin, sculpted chest and dark hair within seconds. It feels like the dragons are about to burst out of his skin on their own accord.

In the end he doesn’t get the opportunity to overthink the situation, as McCree launches for him before he’s even been able to steady his breath. Hanzo will deny to the day he dies that he was bested in hand-to-hand combat in less than a minute by a goddamn cowboy.

“I let you win.”

He levels a glare at McCree where he’s perched on top of him. Straddling Hanzo’s hips, a hand lazily on his solar plexus to ensure the archer stays put while he puts a new cigar to his lips. Of course he has to smoke while on top of Hanzo. Of course the cowboy would be into humiliation.

Hanzo is still out of breath, and he lets himself relax against the floor. As the tension leaves his muscles he’s suddenly acutely aware of the weight on top of him. Of the warm touch of McCree’s palm against his bared chest – and it has to be on purpose. No way that the cowboy didn’t ensure that his victory hold would be skin against skin, and not on his kyudo-gi.

“Well done.”

His voice is weak, but he doesn’t care. All in all he figures it was worth being violently thrown to the floor since it brought such a soft smile to McCree’s lips.

“I gotta say partner, you look good like this.” The coyboy pauses, and he traces patterns with his fingertips against Hanzo’s chest. At first the movement seems absentminded, but Hanzo knows better. McCree rarely does anything without putting thought into it. “Y’know, I gotta ask…”

They are cut off by the rumble of heavy steps, and McCree is thankfully quick enough to get to his feet before Winston and Lena enters the room. The pair doesn’t pay much attention to them, and once they are cleared of suspicion McCree helps Hanzo to his feet.

They leave the gym hurriedly, and in silence. After they part ways Hanzo heads straight for his room. Within minutes he's in the shower, the water painfully cold on his skin. It's exactly what he needs. His muscles are sore, and he's burning from the exertion - from where Jesse's hands has wandered across his chest; his arms; his back. Five minutes of cleansing, no more. Then he heads out before he gets any bad ideas of how to spend his alone time.

Not much later, his phone buzzes.  
  
_“r u touchin urself right now? ;)”_  
  
Hanzo is sitting in the mess hall. There are seven team mates at his table. Usually he tries to keep up appearances, but he just can't hold it in. He bursts out laughing, practically shaking and clutching his stomach. Everyone is staring, he can tell. Hana, who's sitting right by his side, regards him with wide eyes, looking between him and his phone.  
  
"A meme that made Hanzo Shimada laugh? Let me see!"  
  
He's quick enough to snatch the phone away before she can get her hands on it. "I'm not looking at me-mes. I'm reading... a dissertation... on coal mining."  
  
There's a snort from further down the table. "Coal miners make you laugh? That's coal-d man." Lúcio absolutely beams, looking mighty proud of his pun. Hanzo ignores them both and looks back at his phone.  
  
He hesitates, not knowing what kind of reply the cowboy expects. Is this a joke? Is it deadly serious? If he says yes, is he obliged to actually be touching himself this very moment? Is lying an option?  
  
In the end he types _":D"_ and hits send. It is the first smiley he's ever used for communication purposes.  
  
The reply is immediate.  
  
_"hahha, me 2 Darjeeling ;)))_  
.. LOL typing w/ 1 hand is hard  
meat darling  
meant xD"  
  
Hanzo stares at the screen. There are... images... in his mind. Explicit ones at that. Looking around the room no one seems particularly suspicious of his behaviour, except Hana of course, who stares at his phone with hungry eyes. He realizes that he must remove himself from the situation, and perhaps find a place that’s a bit more… solitary.

His room is on the other side of the base, and he can’t be bothered to make it all the way back there. Instead he sneaks into the broom closet not far from the mess hall, shutting it quickly before anyone notices. It is with bated breath that he types his reply.

_“Tell me more”_

There’s a slight pause before McCree starts writing anything, and Hanzo’s mind conveniently provides him with a number of nifty images of just what the cowboy might be up to.

 _“srsly? ok xD_  
u were so pretty on the floor  <3  
all sprawled out 4 me  
& I just wanted 2 touch u  
a lot”

Hanzo can’t help but to snort. _“Touch me a lot?”_

 _“yes_  
y’know  
I’m just a bachelor  
Looking for a partner  
Someone who knows how to ride  
Without even falling off ;3”

The suddenly competent spelling has Hanzo suspicious.

_“R u sending me song lyrics or something?”_

Another pause, and he can easily imagine McCree panicking about being called out.

_“no o.o”_

Hanzo wonders if he should take some responsibility and get this interaction moving again, but he does not know how to proceed. Does he… undress? Should he do things to himself and describe it? Can he make things up? Before he has the chance to make his mind up the phone buzzes multiple times.

 _“im so horny thisis silly_  
ok  
our rooms r like 5 feet apart  
ill cum 2 u :D”

Hanzo’s reply is quick, despite the fact that he’d rather eat shaving cream than admit where he is. _“I’m not in my room”_

_“lol wat O.o”_

The horrible things he’s done in this life are not enough for such punishment. Hanzo must have been a genuinely terrible individual for the past dozen lives or so to have him deserve… this.

_“I’m in the broom closet by the mess hall”_

Perhaps he’s imagining things, but he can swear he hears McCree’s laughter echo through the entirety of the base. He has half the mind to up and leave the closet before the cowboy finds him. Because McCree is coming to find him, right? There can be no other reason for the sudden and alarming silence from his phone… right?

Three minutes later the door to the broom closet is kicked open, and Hanzo doesn’t even have the time to flinch before the door slams shut behind the new arrival, and McCree has him pressed against the nearest wall.

“Didn’t think it’d happen like this, but ‘s sure as hell better than phone bullshit.” His breath is hot, his voice raspy. Hanzo can tell he’s only inches away, keeping his distance despite how they’ve spent the past months. Perhaps he’s nervous. Perhaps he doesn’t want to act before he’s heard Hanzo ask for it.

Bringing his hands up, he immediately finds that scruffy beard. It’s rough against his fingertips, and he traces McCree’s jawline slowly. Bringing his thumb up to McCree’s mouth he lets it linger lightly on his bottom lip, feeling ragged breaths against his knuckles.

“I have no complaints.”

He’s barely done speaking before McCree surges forward. Chapped lips meet his, hot breaths mingle. It’s close mouthed, almost chaste, and Hanzo will have none of it. He guides McCree, hands framing his face, angling him so Hanzo can place butterfly kisses at the corner of his mouth. Before he knows it those delicious lips fall open, granting him full access.

For a moment he deepens the kiss. A hint of tongue, truly tasting the tobacco; the salt; the warmth that is McCree, and then he pulls back. Puts just an inch or two of distance between them. The closet is pitch black, and he can’t make out the cowboy’s expression. However, heavy breaths ghost across his face; throat; his bared shoulder. Hanzo can’t help but to shiver.

“Wow.” The cowboy sounds a bit dazed, the word barely audible.

Hanzo feels like he has to say something. Explain what’s happening. Ask if the plan always was for their texting to lead to this. “McCree, I…”

“Jesse!” His voice is thick, but the reply is urgent. Hanzo can feel him sway forward, before leaning back to keep the distance between them. “Jesus, call me Jesse… you’ve called me much worse in, uh, when I’ve, y’know, imagined… this.”

It is all he needs to lean back in again. This time Jesse responds with equal heat, his hands quickly undoing the ribbon in Hanzo’s hair and tangling in his mane.

Hanzo hasn’t kissed someone like this in a long time. He’s not above the occasional one night stand, but rarely has he allowed something to bloom quite like this. When kissing Jesse he has to stand on his toes, wrap his arms around him to keep his balance. Looking for some leverage he pushes forward, backing the cowboy against the opposite wall. The closet is smaller than he expects, and they hit the wall with quite an impressive thump.

Jesse doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, as he bites at Hanzo’s bottom lip gently, worrying it between his teeth. With the cowboy leaning against the wall, his thighs spread lazily, Hanzo easily nudges one leg between them. It earns him a hitched breath, a curse, and when he pushes forward he’s met with an outright moan.

He leans flush against Jesse, hunger driving him now, the dragons burning beneath his skin. Without hesitation he lets a hand trail downwards, lightly making its way across Jesse’s chest, his belly, to finally palm him through his thick pants. The cowboy moans sweetly against his lips, before regaining some of the control. His lips leaves Hanzo’s as he plants a series of kisses along the archer’s jawline, and once he reaches his neck the light pecks are replaced with teeth. Teasing; on the edge of painful; when he finally bites down Hanzo whimpers, not even trying to keep the noise in.

The closet is so small, so warm, and he wants nothing more than… his thoughts are interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. Hanzo can’t make sense of it. Jesse is right here, leaning heavy on him, breaths burning hot against Hanzo’s neck. He clearly has not touched his phone since he entered the closet. Only after a minute of consideration does he realize that there are many team mates that has his number, and any of them could technically text him at any time. He leans back a bit. This could, after all, be an emergency.

Holding his phone up he squints at the screen, needing a moment to adjust his eyes to the brightness. The message is from a contact named “Lúcio (The DJ)”, and he doesn’t need to unlock his phone to read it in its entirety.

_“Pro tip; get a room :P”_

Hanzo drops the phone on the floor and buries his face in Jesse’s chest, groaning loudly. Within moments the cowboy’s phone buzzes as well, and once he’s checked the message his laughter fills the room.

“There’s a whole goddamn audience out there waitin’ for us.”

Hanzo straightens a bit, steadying himself enough to estimate where Jesse’s mouth should be right about now. “Then let’s never leave.”

Jesse’s lips welcomes him like a new home, and no matter what happens from this moment on, Hanzo will never regret the day he shared his number with the cowboy.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write short things on [tumblr](http://comediakaidanovsky.tumblr.com/) as well (but mostly I just cry about fictional characters).


End file.
